


Ordo Salutis

by devotchka



Category: Tekken (Video Games)
Genre: Confessional, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sacrilege, Topping from the Bottom, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 12:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24849832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was seven days ago."Alternately, Miguel attends confession. The priest isn't what he expected.AU-ish.
Relationships: Miguel Caballero Rojo/Claudio Serafino
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Ordo Salutis

"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. My last confession was seven days ago."

It's not a routine confession. For one thing, his priest, Claudio Serafino, is not your typical man of the cloth. He's blunt and enabling. At his first confession, he'd told Miguel that he found his violent fantasies justified, and didn't believe stopping "an undeniable evil" required repentance. By Miguel's fifth confession, his sins had shifted from wrath to lust.

He wholly believes that Claudio saw it coming, and did nothing to stop it.

For another thing, their "confessions" don't always happen in the confessional. Sometimes they happen in the pews, or in the back of the building, or right at the beautiful altar resting center stage.

Tonight, he _is_ doing it in the actual confessional. Not that it makes a difference.

The confessional is small, but Miguel quickly learns that one side of it can fit both himself and his priest. It's made of dark wood, with a small, stained glass window to let in light. It's an old looking thing, and the entire church feels steeped in history and tradition, which really helps pile on the Catholicism.

Claudio doesn't seem to mind. He looks perfectly comfortable as he asks, "Same sin as last time?"

And Miguel cups Claudio's face in both hands, shoving his back into the wall as his mouth finds his. Claudio moans for it. He doesn't have to worry; the church never has visitors at an hour like this, not for anything holy.

As they part, Miguel breathes, "I feel this way because of _you_ , Father.", and he just barely catches the slight smirk that graces the corner of Claudio's mouth.

If someone were on the outside looking in, they'd see the priest's back pressing up against the stained glass of the confessional. Miguel wonders if that gets him off or not; he knows the answer as far as himself, and feels something complicated about that, too.

"Sit down." Claudio says, but it's not a request. His hands wander up toward his shoulders and guide him back into the seat, and Claudio follows him down, straddling his lap. Just that much contact has Miguel already aching with want.

Not to mention his _voice_. Something about how Claudio shifts from that usual soft and composed tone to this heavy, rough, wanting one really does him in. There's something kinky about seeing him this way and knowing that next Sunday he will be in this very church -- providing faith and comfort -- speaking with that nothing-is-wrong-here calmness. There’s something about knowing what he sounds like when he's burning up with arousal, this man who isn't supposed to be touched, least of all by his own parishioners.

Claudio is much smaller than Miguel is, shorter and thinner, and yet he feels undeniably powerful. Taking control is a natural motion for him. One of his hands strays in between them and trails down Miguel's chest. His fingers shift down past his collarbone, over the cross he's worn around his neck for years, all the way until they're in his lap, rubbing along his already hard cock.

"Do you feel guilty, Miguel?" He asks.

"No, Father."

The response is as genuine as Miguel believes the question is. He thinks that, if he said yes, Claudio might not want to do this, that he will break rules but only with a strange moral compass to guide him. He isn't going to tempt him by testing out that theory.

"Good." Claudio says, and his hands work at Miguel's pants, freeing his cock as he sinks down to his knees in front of him. He's gripping it in one hand, but Miguel is paying more attention to the way he looks up at him, the coolness in his eyes. "Feel free to tell me what you want, if it's not this."

And then Claudio's tongue is dragging up the length of his cock, getting it wet before he wraps his lips around the tip and sinks down. He lets it hit the back of his throat. Miguel's hips jerk up on their own. Claudio moans at that, and then his eyes open again, and he looks at Miguel watching his lips, his hands, the pale skin of his throat.

Miguel can't remember ever feeling this aroused.

He lets one of his hands weave itself into Claudio's long hair, and Claudio allows it. He allows his grip to tighten, and allows him to guide his mouth lower, and doesn't gag as Miguel fucks deep into his throat. Miguel can hear the wetness of Claudio’s mouth; he can feel saliva pooling in his lap, soaking him.

Miguel is fascinated by him, by his form, by the way he moves and acts and thinks, and suddenly he wants to be closer to him. He wants to feel Claudio moving against him, wants to feel his legs around his waist and his insides clenching and wants to hear him moaning out loud instead of around his cock.

They're on the same page. Claudio stops what he's doing moments later, pulling back to say, "I want you to fuck me."

Miguel just looks at him and nods in agreement.

He lets Claudio boss him around, lets him show him just how he wants to be taken ("Against the door, like this."), and then Claudio's on his tip toes, facing the stained glass window with his pants tugged down just far enough, one of his hands reaching behind himself to grab Miguel's spit-soaked cock and line it up.

"Go ahead." He says, and Miguel thrusts forward. Entering him is smooth. It's too easy to get lost in that tight heat, and Claudio's already moaning over the feeling of being so suddenly full. He does _not_ sound like a man of God.

And yet he chooses to worship Claudio over Him in a place like this.

"You feel so good." Miguel says, tugging Claudio by the hair until his back presses firmly against his chest. "So fucking good."

He's pounding into him in no time, Claudio's hands scrambling for purchase against the glass, his breath coming in heavy and frenetic. If he were feeling particularly bold, Miguel would be telling him all about how good he sounds like this; how arousing it is to be the only one who gets to hear him this way.

"Harder," Claudio gasps, always knowing what he wants, and Miguel complies. It's surprisingly difficult to suppress the _Yes, Father_ stuck on his tongue from a lifetime of practice, but he manages. Obeying results in an ever so slight change in angle, somehow even deeper.

Claudio tenses in response. His muscles squeeze tight around Miguel's cock. His lips part, and he moans, and Miguel doesn't know how much longer he can last like this.

The cross on Miguel’s chest digs into his skin. He's sure it digs into Claudio's as well where he holds him tight, his arm pinning him in place, and something about the sacrilige does it for him. Claudio comes first, insides spasming and his body trembling and Miguel no longer has to hold back. His pace stutters and he presses deep, deep into him, muffling his sounds against the curve of Claudio's neck.

For a few moments, the only sound in the confessional is that of their breathing, heavy and satiated.

Miguel pulls out. Claudio sinks back down to his feet. Miguel doesn’t envy how long he maintained that kind of position for, or the discomfort it must’ve been, but maybe Claudio is into that kind of thing. He knew about the height difference when he asked for that position.

It only takes a second to adjust his clothes. They only moved around what they needed to, and something about doing it mostly dressed had also been exciting — maybe something to do with that immediate need, and the way that nothing had really held them back from each other.

Claudio turns to face him, looking pleased and yet always professional, and before he can open his mouth Miguel claims it with his own one more time.

The kiss is deep and slow, missing the urgency they’d both had just moments before. Claudio leans back against the wall behind him, pulling Miguel down to his level by the front of his top, and he meets him willingly.

“You still don’t feel guilty?” Claudio asks, once they finally part.

“Not at all, Father.”

“I’ll see you again next week.”


End file.
